After reading every part of the menu, I decided on a scone with whipped cream and papaya chutney (smelled like Chef Boyardee) and a limon slush. About 10 minutes into the slush, I realized that a slush by definition has ice in it. And the ice is probably made with tap water. Huh. I haven't even been in the country 24 hours, and I may have messed up already. Since the menu was written in both Spanish and English, I'm hoping they have established their reputation with tourists by using agua pura. Time will tell. I didn't notice some of our group was also at Cafe Condesa. Evidently, I went to the express side. They went to the sit-down side and had french toast, eggs, pancakes, etc. I'll know next time.
Just before we left Hotel Panchoy, I purchased a hand-carved flute from a street vendor outside. (Hey, lady!) Then I spent the next 20 minute hyperventilating myself trying to figure out how to play it. Kelly Boy also bought one, and Big Ron bought a drum. We're thinking of starting a homemade band, although it would be a very bad band. We passed between Volcano Agua (on the left) and Volcano Fuego (on the right) followed the river to what Americans would call a highway.
- In English: I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, down in my heart, down in my heart. I've got the joy, joy, joy, joy down in my heart, down in my heart to stay.
- In Spanish: Yo tengo gozo, gozo, gozo, gozo en mi corazon, en mi corazon, en mi corazon. Yo tengo gozo, gozo, gozo, gozo en mi corazon, porque Christo me salvo.
- In Quiche (pronounced key-chay, phonetically): Ko kEEko-tim, kEEko-tim, kEEko-tim pot-EE-won-EE-ma, pot-EE-won-EE-ma, ko kEEko-tim, kEEko-tim, kEEko-tim pot-EE-won-EE-ma, malt-EE-Osh-chair-EE dEE-Os.
We began to see small shacks and houses on both sides of the trail. Children running to the door, huge smiles on their mouths and in fact, on their entire bodies, like they were screaming, "They're here!" And then a second later, overcome by shyness (and probably distrust), they duck back inside the door and only peek out.
By the time the bus passed the school, the entire community had arrived to greet us! We stepped off the bus, and Max and hte other returning members exchanged hugs and words of greeting with old friends from past trips. As we unloaded our 60+ bags, boxes, and backpacks from the bus, every person old enough to walk carried something that weight almost as much as they did, up an incline about 1/2 mile to Iglesia Metodista La Voz de Jehova, the place we would call home for the week. I smiled and made faces at the kids on the walk up. I used some of the only Spanish I remembered: Como te llamas? (What is your name?) The young girls giggled and whispered something inaudible. The first person I met was Juana, who I later learned was the pastor's wife. The pastor had returned to the U.S. for another few months of work and then he would return to lead the church full-time as long as his family could afford it. Then he would return to the U.S. again. Someone made the comment that a person can work in the U.S. for only a couple of years, making minimum wage for manual labor, and then they could return to Guatemala, retire, and live like kings.
Once inside the church, Juana and Diego, the church's treasurer, greeted us formally. She spoke of her gratitude and appreciation for our visit and for the work we were about to do. A previous trip had installed stoves and water filtration systems in the homes of the church members. On our trip, we would do the same for community members in need regardless of their church affiliation. It was a means of outreach, and we wanted to be the best ambassadors possible. Juana's prayer was mixed with sobs and wailing, and while I couldn't understand everything she said, I was deeply touched. Diego and Eliseo, standing beside me, cried openly. In fact, as the evening passed, I noticed that Diego was so overcome with emotion that he seemed almost delirious, inaudible and unconsolable during the service. The formal welcome ended with a circular receiving line, where adults (14yo+) hugged each of us. While it felt a bit awkward at first, I welcomed their love and gratitude with open arms, literally. When Juana got to me, she held the embrace and said something into my ear. I have never so much wished that I could understand another language. I tried to repeat the words in my head until I could ask Raul, but they quickly became lost in a jumble of consonants and vowels. The words were never really important anyway. The strength in her embrace and the expression on her face translated easily.
After setting some chairs and benches outside, the church service began. The children were unwilling to approach us but still curious enough that they did not take their eyes off us. Keri earned smiles and giggles throughout the service by casting quick glances at a couple of young girls on the side. A few songs were sung by the church members and by us, thus copying the song above in 3 languages.
Video of the kids singing in Quiche later in the week: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yyN05tmaNMg
Most of the adults speak only Quiche. The children know Quiche and Spanish. Kelly Boy gave the sermon, and Raul translated into Quiche (lots of K sounds and simple syllables). There were a few more songs, and then we were excused. We began putting away chairs and benches. It was evident that no one wanted to leave, but no one was sure of how to approach the other. Sharon sat beside some girls and took some photos. Keri and I also had our cameras out. We would take a photo and show it to the children. Keri won over a group of young girls and soon had all of the children with her for a photo. I turned the camera around to show. The curiosity overwhelmed their fears, and soon I was surrounded by 40+ children, leaning against me, all trying to see the screen. A valuable commodity on this trip--camera batteries. Keri humored the kids with a few jumping jacks, and I videoed. They liked that.
David's knowledge of Spanish gave him a leg up, and he soon was lifting boys, chasing them, and swinging them around. he was filthy from head to toe when he was done but didn't care at all. David incorporated J.D. into the game, which was good since the kids were frightened/intimidated/distrustful of his size. J.D. is 6'5" and strong but sweet as can be. It didn't take long for the kids to realize that. Keri, Laura, Soracha, and I got some of the other kids to make a big circle. We played Hokey Pokey ("you put your left arm in, you put your left arm out..."), and they followed us putting in their arms. Then they snickered and giggled when we would "shake it all about." We asked names--Doria, Lilian, Katelina, Michelita, Maria, Santos, too many to remember. Santos probably 7 or 8 years old, held out his hand as I walked by. I shook it and showed him the high 5. Big smile. The girls braiding each other's hair and Keri's and Soracha's and Laura's and mine.
After an hour or two of playing with the kids, our dinner was ready. Carmelina and Lidia, our cooks for the week, had prepared pork chops so tender I could cut them with my fork, rice with vegetables, cooked potatoes, squash and cucumbers, and homemade tortillas. It was wonderful!
After dinner, we began work on our common areas--changing room, tool area, supply area, kids' stuff area, tents and bug huts, t-shirts to donate, gatorade, adn the widowmaker. Just before leaving the U.S., I read my friend and fellow kayaker Alison's Facebook page, which explicitly stated that a kayaker should never run a rapid called widowmaker, a rapid with a rock or other feature called widowmaker, or... you get the picture. In this case, the widowmaker is a set of wires which connect to the showerhead and heat the water by electrical current. Very safe, I'm sure. Regardless of safety, my first Pabeya shower with the widowmaker was a liberating experience, thus liberating me from the dirt, soot, dust, smoke, tar smell, sweat, general BO, and funk of the day. Now I'm lying on my air mattress listening to at least 4 different people snore (not in harmony). A large beetle is banging against the light outside. A cat is walking across the corrugated tin roof. A bug (or bird or child) of some kind is making music/song. A baby is crying far away. I'm exactly where I want to be. And I am glad, at least for now, that I forgot my iPod.
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